


the wheels on the whole damn bus

by themazepunner



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Drinking, Happy Ending, M/M, Party, a very minor car incident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28215456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themazepunner/pseuds/themazepunner
Summary: when minho arrives late to one of thomas' parties, he finds that things don't happen the way he expects them to.
Relationships: Ben/Minho (Maze Runner), Frypan/Gally (Maze Runner), Harriet/Sonya | Elizabeth "Lizzy" (Maze Runner), Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner), Teresa Agnes/Brenda (Maze Runner)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	the wheels on the whole damn bus

It’s 7:30pm when Minho’s car crashes into a concrete wall.

Well,  _ crashes, _ is a dramatic way to put it. If there are witnesses, they may use the words ‘scraped’, ‘scratched’ or ‘barely even touched’. 

However, there are no witnesses. Only Minho, who, upon reversing out of his driveway, misjudges the distance and scrapes the passenger side door along the wall. There’s a terrible, high-pitched screeching sound that leaves Minho’s mouth and a much more tolerable, lower-pitched sound as the metal hits the concrete.

“What the fuck?!” Minho screams at his car, which says nothing in return and has somehow taken the blame for Minho’s driving skills.

He heads back up the driveway and stops the vehicle at the top, huffing and trying not to hyperventilate, cry, or become the first human to spontaneously combust. 

Using every inch of his strength, he steps out of the car. 

_ Okay,  _ he tells himself, walking to the passenger side.  _ Maybe you didn’t actually touch the wall. Maybe you’re losing your mind. Maybe you’re having vivid hallucinations. That wouldn’t be so bad. _

Then he spots it.

“Fucking shit fuck a duck!” he yells, knowing his neighbours can’t hate him any more than they already do. 

_ Life is full of reasons to be really, really loud. _

He steps back and stares at the damage. If he stands at the perfect angle, he can see the small uppermost strip of paint missing, in a streak that has to be at least three inches long and a quarter inch wide. 

_ It’s wrecked. Undriveable. I need a whole new car. _

He yells into the abyss again, screaming just for the hell of it.

Then Minho takes a moment and sits down in the driveway, planning his car’s funeral. It’ll need a big coffin and the programme can have that picture he took of the car at the beach last summer at sunset -- symbolic of its final days.  _ Fast Car _ by Tracy Chapman would play and there wouldn’t be a dry eye in sight if anyone turned up. He’d wear a black suit, black shirt, black tie, with little car-shaped cufflinks. Mourning, with style.

Wondering whether he should cry now or later, Minho looks back at the scrape and sighs. He can probably still attempt to drive the car. The engine isn’t usually kept in the passenger side door, let alone in the top layer of paint. 

He glares at the mark, pulls the finger at it, and considers spitting at it before remembering he’d just be spitting on his own car. He gets up, regains his dignity, climbs in, and drives off without incident. 

By the time he gets to Thomas’ house, it’s 8pm. He’s an hour and a half late in normal people time, but his friends were probably only expecting him thirty minutes ago. 

He takes his beer from the boot, glares at the scratch one last time, jogs up to Thomas’ front door and kicks it open, revealing a busy living room.

“Minho!” Frypan cheers from where he’s positioned in Gally’s arms, closest to the door.

Everyone else turns.

“Minho!” they all yell, almost like they’d organised a surprise party and decided to shout ‘Minho’ instead of ‘surprise’.

“Hey!” he walks in and greets each of them with a hug, case of beer tucked safely under his right arm. 

Frypan gets the first hug, followed by his boyfriend, Gally, who practically crushes Minho in his arms.

Then there’s Teresa, who wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him on the cheek. Her girlfriend, Brenda, laughs and does the same. From the dopey look in Brenda’s eyes, Minho knows the drinking has well and truly begun.

Then there’s his best friend, Newt, who picks him up and swings him around, which tells Minho, after having known Newt for many years, that this kid is off his face drunk and tonight will be fun. 

Newt’s boyfriend, Thomas, stumbles over and gives Minho a friendly hug and pat on the back. “Welcome!” he says, speaking deep into Minho’s ear canal, making sure each brain cell can hear him very, very clearly. “Chuck your beer in the fridge!”

Minho nods, wondering if his hearing will ever recover. “Thanks, man!”

Newt’s sister, Sonya, is here with her girlfriend, which surprises Minho. Sonya and Harriet live on the other side of the country, and Newt’s always complaining about how he never gets to see his own sister. Not that he ever makes any effort to book plane tickets himself; that’s Sonya’s job.

Minho hugs them both tightly and turns to see Ben, who’s dancing under a standing lamp like he’s being abducted by aliens. He’s wearing this tight fitted deep blue t-shirt that just makes him look so hot, like every other piece of clothing he’s ever owned.

“Minho!” Ben grins, and pulls his friend into a long, tight hug. “About time you got here!”

A laugh escapes Minho’s lips and he shrugs. “Better late than ugly!”

It’s not until Minho’s walking across the room, halfway to the fridge, when the realisation hits him. He stops in his tracks and swivels slowly, his eyes panning the room:

Frypan and his boyfriend, Gally.

Teresa and her girlfriend, Brenda.

Newt and his boyfriend, Thomas.

Sonya and her girlfriend, Harriet.

Ben, his hot self, and his completely selfish and inconsiderate lack of significant other.

Minho grumbles to himself, pulls out a beer, drinks most of it, and throws the rest of them in the fridge.  _ Where was everyone else? Where were the other single people? What was this, Noah’s Ark?! _

The obvious option is to ask hot Ben. Minho finishes the rest of his beer in one go, gets a lone cheer from Gally, grabs a second one and heads over to the guy still dancing sensually by the lamp.

“Ben?”

“Yuh huh?”

“Where’s Winston?”

Ben shrugs and does a little wiggle that Minho assumes he thinks is dancing. “He had something on. Couldn’t make it.”

_ Damn it. _

“And Aris?”

“He works nights.” A shimmy.

_ Fuck. _

“Zart?”

“Stomach bug or something gross.” Followed by an entire body roll that Minho tries to ignore.

_ Well, shit. That settles it. _

Ben seems to catch on. “I’ve been third wheeling for, like, an hour.”

Minho snorts. “Third wheeling? There are  _ four  _ couples here. You’re fucking ninth wheeling.” He gestures to the room. “This is a whole damn bus!”

Ben laughs, “Well, then it’s a party bus!” But a thought interrupts him. “If the wheels on the bus go round and round, does that mean we should all be spinning?” 

The question is as perplexing as it is unnecessary.

“How much have you had to drink?” Minho asks him, already guessing the answer.

With an exasperated sigh, Ben throws his arms up and lets them fall. “Like you said, I’m the ninth wheel. I’ve had a  _ lot. _ ”

“Cheers to that.” Minho’s bottle clinks with Ben’s.

So does his next one.

And the one after.

And the one after that.

After the fifth clink, he turns to see Brenda and Teresa making out on the couch, Newt and Thomas slow dancing to WAP, Sonya and Harriet actually doing the choreography, and Frypan and Gally are nowhere to be seen.

“I feel like I’m watching Love Island.”

“I feel like I’m watching Animal Planet,” Ben points out, as Newt and Thomas decide to join Sonya and Harriet and mimic their dancing.

They stare for a moment longer before all four of them begin grinding on the floor.

“Okay!” Ben laughs, turning away. “Kitchen?” he suggests.

Minho is now scarred for life, so all he can do is nod as Ben grabs his hand and takes him through to the kitchen where, thankfully, nobody is grinding on anything.

Ben walks over to the counter and pushes himself up, only to realise, at the last moment, that he’s trying to sit in the sink.

“Fuck-” is all he manages to say before he’s fallen in, knees tucked slightly towards his chest. He stays there for a moment, shocked by what he’s done. 

Minho doesn’t interrupt the very important process going on here; Ben has to learn from this experience somehow. 

The other reason that Minho doesn’t rush over to help is that he’s doubled over, laughing at the face Ben had pulled as he’d realised what was happening. 

Once the initial shock has worn off, Ben laughs too. With it comes the sound of clattering cutlery, which sends Minho laughing even harder, as he realises that the sound is coming from the bottom of the sink where Ben must be jiggling it with his butt.

After a moment, the laughing subsides, and Minho wipes a tear from his eye.

“Are you okay?” he asks, finally.

“I’m sinking,” Ben replies.

Within the next second, Minho’s on the floor, arms wrapped across his chest as he howls with laughter. 

Ben, who has made absolutely no effort or even a hint of a plan to move from the sink, watches on, dangling his legs as the contagious laughter carries on.

When he’s managed to contain himself again, Minho stays on the ground, leaning back against the wall. “You fell in the fucking sink,” he cries.

Ben grins. “I didn’t sink this through.”

“No! Stop!” Minho cackles. “I’ll piss myself!”

“Maybe you should be sitting in a sink then too. See? Not such a dumb idea after all.”

Minho stands up, preparing to help Ben out. “Do not pee in the sink,” he pleads, taking Ben’s hands to pull him up and out of his impromptu seat.

But Ben has other plans. He grabs each of Minho’s hands and wraps them around his own waist, holding him there, pressed tightly against his back.

Minho frowns. “What are you doing?”

“Putting your arms around my waist. I thought it was obvious.”

Minho doesn’t budge. “Yeah, I got that part. Why are you doing that?” 

As though that’s his cue, Ben lifts his hands and places them on Minho’s shoulders. “I’m getting comfortable,” he says.

“In the sink?”

Ben glances down, chuckling to himself. “Yeah,” he affirms. “In the sink. I could be sitting on a barbed wire fence for all I care. This is comfortable.”

“How is sitting in a sink on some used forks even remotely comfortable?”

Ben shrugs. “Maybe it’s the view.”

_ Did he really just say that? Or is this one of Minho’s many Ben-related daydreams? Does his hair look okay?  _

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

A confident nod. “Really.”

“You know, if you climbed out of the-”

“Oh, shut up-”

Ben’s lips met Minho’s with so much force that he’s knocked back a step. Ben moves his arms to rest around Minho’s neck and his legs to wrap around his waist to cling on. Minho pulls Ben with him, regaining his balance after the sudden surprise and settling in the middle of the kitchen, lips, miraculously, never breaking apart.

“YES!” screams a voice from somewhere behind them and Minho pulls away, turning just in time to see Thomas in the doorway, punching the air while Newt stands behind him, laughing. In the background, he can hear everyone else cheering in the living room.

Suddenly, it’s obvious. 

Minho groans and Ben stares at him with concern.

“You okay?” he asks.

“We should’ve seen this coming,” Minho shakes his head. 

Ben frowns. “Seen what coming?” 

He’s still clinging on to Minho like some very attractive, human-looking koala. He’s kind of heavy, but Minho doesn’t mind.

_At all_.

“They set us up, Ben. It was so obvious!”

Much to Minho’s utter surprise, Ben just smirks.

“What?” Minho takes a step back, trying to size Ben up and work out what’s going on.

_ Why is he smiling like that? What does he know that I don’t? Did he  _ want  _ to be set- _

“Holy shit, you knew about it!”

Ben laughs and jumps down from Minho’s arms. “Winston was never coming,” he grins.

“And Aris?”

“He knew too.”

Minho is shocked. “And Zart?”

“I paid him not to come.”

“You _ paid _ him?!”

“In chocolate chip ice cream.”

Minho shakes his head in disbelief, laughing. “You wanted this to happen the whole time? You planned for this?”

Ben nods proudly.

“Well, you got me,” Minho grins.

Ben removes an invisible top hat and takes a dramatic bow. “Tah dah!” He stumbles back, still drunk, and Minho rushes forward to grab him, ending up with his arms around his waist again.

Ben laughs. “Now you got me!”

Too happy for words, Minho pulls Ben into another kiss and, this time, they’re both ready. The smile never leaves Minho’s face. He can’t help feeling that, despite how the night was heading, it’s turned out perfectly. 

And, judging by the blissful look on Ben’s face, everything’s gone exactly as he planned. 

_ Operation: Benho _ is now complete.

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
